


The Death of Finnick Odair

by uncreatedlight



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Near Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 17:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14720567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uncreatedlight/pseuds/uncreatedlight
Summary: When he finally woke, it was to a world which no longer made sense at all.





	The Death of Finnick Odair

The sweet smell of a rose belongs in a flourishing garden, a bouquet intended for a beautiful woman, or the perfume she wears on her wrists. Roses do not belong in sewers, emitted by white, naked, blood-thirsty muttations. But that was the sick creation President Snow sent after us as we made our way beneath the Capitol, on a mission to kill him. In a way, I suppose it’s only appropriate. I have been to the President’s garden, have seen the glorious roses he tends. I’ve plucked one myself and prepared it for one of the decadent ladies Snow arranged for me to court. The rose is the President’s one true love. A flower beautiful and sweet smelling, which hides its true nature. As a child I once discovered a vine of wild roses near my parent’s house. Enamored, I reached out to better examine one, only to be cut by the sharp thorns. Snow is not beautiful. But he is charismatic, and he has a deadly sort of charm. He is like the rose. Sickeningly sweet, more dangerous the closer you get. 

I’ve fought mutts before. But these were different. They were so driven by hunger for our flesh that they began destroying their own bodies. They were unstoppable. Even the apes in the arena could be brought down with a single thrust of my trident into their bellies. But these obscene creatures kept going no matter how many bullets or arrows or stab wounds they received. When they caught me, I can’t say I was surprised. They tore at my throat, my body, desperate for my flesh. The pain was excruciating. The smell was overwhelming. It was roses, yes, but the bitter smell of blood was present too. I suppose it was mine and Castor’s blood, but all I could think was how much it was like Snow’s own scent. He must have been very proud of his creation, because only they came close to reflecting his own unstoppable blood-lust.

My last thoughts were a blur of childhood, the Hunger Games, the torrid love affairs and luxurious Capitol parties, Johanna, District 13, and Annie. I didn’t have time to be sad or worried or afraid for Annie as the creatures tried to devour me. I clung to her face in my mind, sure that it would be my last, and wishing I could see the real thing before dying. But of course I would never want Annie to see me like this, my head being forced from my body just as had happened to her fellow tribute from District 4. No, it was better like this.

The explosion was sudden and earth-shattering. I know now that it was caused by Katniss triggering the Holo’s self-destruct system. But in that moment, there was only the violence, the ripping, the burning. I was the explosion. And then I was nothing. 

I can’t imagine what the Avoxes thought when they found me. Perhaps they screamed in that strange, throaty way. Maybe they ran away at first, only to return out of guilt. It’s difficult to envision them quietly working together to lift me up and carry me all the way to the Capitol hospital. One of them made tourniquets to tie off my bleeding extremities. I’m told this saved my life. I will ever be indebted to these silent servants of the Capitol. I don’t even know their names.

When I finally woke, it was to a world which no longer made sense at all. The rebels had won the war. Snow was dead…and so was Coin. Katniss was being held on trial for assassinating the new president of Panem. Madness. Several times I asked to see Katniss, to ask her what happened in the sewer, why the team left me behind. The doctors seemed confused when I asked for her. When a few of them spoke of my desire to see the Mockingjay, it became apparent that the doctors were unaware of my identity. This brought home to me exactly how badly damaged my body was.

I am unrecognizable from the handsome man I used to be. Nobody could possibly picture me now as the debonair victor of the Hunger Games who once made women faint with a single, sultry smile. Even my voice is altered, though the doctors say that can be fixed with surgery. Most of it, they say, can be fixed with surgery. But they say this with sad smiles and shifty eyes, and I know that they have doubts about my recovery. There’s not enough money to cover the extensive procedures that need to be done. It will be a miracle if I can ever leave this bed.

I am alive though, and that’s a start. I’ve managed to coerce one of the more sympathetic doctors to give me a communication Holo. When I speak, it translates my words into text. I can send messages to anyone in Panem. It is difficult, because I get tired after talking for very long. But it is worlds better than being isolated in this sterile room with nothing to do and no friend to talk to.

Tomorrow, Johanna is coming to visit me. I know they’ve sent her because no one else wants to face the terrible truth that is my broken, burned body. I am glad though, regardless. She tells me that Haymitch Abernathy is developing a plan with Plutarch to raise money for my medical care.

I will get better. I will see my Annie again. I will hold our baby when he is born, and he will not cry when he sees me.

I am Finnick Odair, and I am alive.


End file.
